


Paresthesia

by obscureshipyard



Series: Hydra Husbands [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Brock Pov, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Human distaster Brock Rumlow, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder Husbands, Reunited and It Feels So Good, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard
Summary: Brock wakes up from the cradle completely healed. His face is back, his skin, his eyes, his ears, his mind, even Jack. He can feel again.Takes place directly after the events of ‘You're mine. I'm yours.’
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Hydra Husbands [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032084
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Paresthesia

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t let this series end without some smut ;-)
> 
> Thanks TemptedForTea for the edits/notes!

Brock's head felt different. Thoughts, once boggy and confused, now came through clear. The blasting headache and tinnitus that wracked him since waking up as a mangled carcass months ago were completely gone. His eyes were better, no blurriness, no double vision. Hell, things even smelled better.

Things smelled like Jack. The big Aussie stood no further than six inches away since Brock woke up. It helped remind Brock that this was all real. His second in command had his eight and wouldn’t let things go to shit again.

Dr. Cho was thorough with her examination. The dainty woman, once too intimidated to get more than two words out in Brock's presence, now commanded his attention and answers to every question she asked.

She didn't seem to mind Jack's hovering during her examination. At first the doe-eyed looks had riled Brock’s jealousy, but then he noticed her looks weren't just for Jack. It was when Jack put a hand on Brock’s shoulder, helped him to stand, held his hospital gown closed when he moved. _They're sentimental,_ Jack had said. He trusted his SIC’s judgement. He trusted Jack. Since waking up, he needed that solid trust. 

After getting out of his first medically induced coma, he’d woken up alone. The paranoia and delirium had taken days to get under control. If Brock was honest with himself, he’d probably never gotten rid of all of it. They made picking up the mantle of Crossbones seem like a logical step.

The hallucinations had fueled his need for revenge. He couldn’t let anything go. His already short temper was nonexistent. He’d been a raw nerve, exposed and hurting. When the fragmented Hydra network had commanded him to continue the work, to sow unrest and go for blood, Brock had been ready. It was the only job for a monster like him.

But now, waking up with his brain unscrambled, his skin back on his body, and Jack at his side...it felt like he’d lost--changed--returned… Brock couldn’t name it.

Cho cleared him to leave the medical ward, informing him he’d have to come back for follow-up within 24 hours. Jack moved in close as someone entered the room from the outside hall.

“Agent Rumlow, I’m Everett Ross. I know you’re probably exhausted, but I’ll be conducting your interview this afternoon.” Decent suit, shiny shoes, shit eating grin like he knew every thought in Brock’s head, the man was CIA.

“Think I can get some clothes, Ross? Or, is this gonna be one of _‘those’_ interviews?” Brock drawled. It was like slipping back into his old life again. As Crossbones, Brock would have gone off, started screaming and punching. Brock felt irritated, but now words, rather than fury, came easy to rattle Ross right back.

“Always fascinating to see how people come back after the cradle. Charming as ever, Rumlow.” Ross nodded to the guard over his shoulder. Brock could feel Jack tense behind him, ready to spring into action. “Sanders here will show you to your room and get you a set of clothes. I’ll come to collect you in about an hour. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“I’m giddy with anticipation.” Brock gave his worst, sarcastic smile.

The guard lead them out, not saying a word when Jack followed behind Brock. Jack’s unwavering presence kept Brock calm as they walked down the corridor to an adjoining hall lined with closed doors. The room Sanders led them to was a standard barrack, single bed, single chair, foot locker for possessions, small sink and mirror in the corner near the door. Once the two men walked inside the room, the door closed with the audible click of an external lock engaging.

Brock stepped over to the small mirror, turning his face side to side. It was odd seeing himself again. No scars, just a teasing of crow's feet around familiar eyes. His muscles moved how he wanted them to without tugging on tight scar tissue. He even had his ears back. It was like the last few months had just been a nightmare and he was finally waking up.

“Not too bad. I’m pretty as ever.” He said to the mirror. Jack loomed behind him, face blank as usual, watching Brock’s every move. But Brock saw the slight twitch at the corner of green eyes, cheeks and lips tighten for a moment then relaxing. The micro expression was as loud to Brock as any other person rolling their eyes and calling him an idiot.

“You think I’m pretty, Jack?” Brock shivered as the other man moved in close. The air was cool, and his hospital gown did little to shield him from the chill. Jack’s body burned like a furnace. A calloused hand moved to rest at the back of Brock’s neck, gently stroking over the cords of muscle.

“ _Fuck,_ I can feel that.” Brock’s skin felt alive again. After months of numbness, he had forgotten how good it felt to touch, and be touched. His eyes dropped closed as Jack’s hands snaked around his chest and hip.

“Does it hurt?” Jack asked, but he didn’t pull back. Brock shook his head. He couldn’t form words. He pressed back against Jack, letting the bigger man take his weight.

Brock felt the ties being undone on his gown. Thin fabric whispered past his skin as it dropped to the ground. With his eyes closed Brock had no choice but to feel. Jack’s hands were slow and worshipful as they traced every inch of him.

Fire trailed after fingertips. Brock’s knees trembled from the force of his arousal. Lightheadedness threatened to drop him to the floor as his blood rushed south. The mouth at his neck turned from gentle kisses to teasing nips.

Brock forced his eyes open. In the mirror stood a man so debauched Brock barely recognized it as himself. His face was flush, his nipples spiked, goosebumps covered most of his bare skin. Jack met his eyes in the mirror. The green of his irises only a thin ring around blown pupils.

“I want to fuck you.” Brock rasped. “I want to feel you under me.” Jack’s fingers dug into the muscle of Brock’s hips as he spoke.

Without a word Jack moved them both to the small cot. Brock’s hands clumsily helped Jack strip from his ill-fitting clothes. The body beneath was thinner than Brock remembered, but no less beautiful. Wisps of reddish-brown chest hair laid at the center of Jack’s chest. Brock traced around it with his tongue, stopped at each nipple to taste and tease.

Jack’s breath was ragged by the time Brock finished. Getting Jack beneath him properly was a bit of a chore on the small bed frame but feeling Jack’s body pressed against his was worth the struggle.

Jack lay stretched out with his legs wide. Brock settled between, on his knees. He stroked his hands up and down Jack’s body, wanting to feel all of him. Green eyes flicked down to Jack’s right hand where he held a tube of petroleum jelly.

“Where’d you get that?” Brock took the offering and opened it. He was curious but couldn’t wait another minute to get inside of Jack. If touching with his hands felt this heavenly, then actually fucking was likely to give Brock a coronary.

“You and the doc were distracted. I figured it might come in handy.” Jack smiled that broken, boyish smile that belonged only to Brock. He leaned forward to speak into Brock’s ear. “Pocketed a couple of scalpels too, but that’s for later.”

“Always prepared.” Brock sank down into a kiss. Jack turned up to him like a flower to the sun. Everything was hungry lips and searching hands. Brock’s lubed fingers found Jack’s hole by memory.

Jack let out the lightest of gasps, breaking their rhythm for just a moment. Brock looked down at Jack’s face, flushed and needy. How had he lived without Jack after Triskelion? Life had been nothing but pain.

Now, everything was technicolor and ecstasy. Brock worked his fingers to carefully open Jack up. They hadn’t been together in so long, each locked away in their own prisons and pain. Brock wanted more time to worship Jack properly, but he needed to be inside. Jack writhed beneath him like it was the first time he’d been touched. Brock felt for that spongy little button that made his lover’s eyes roll back.

“So tight for me, Jackie. Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” Brock knew how much Jack liked his dirty talk. It made his hips buck and ass clench down like a vice. “Relax, baby, breathe for me.” Brock soothed. Devious fingers found Jack’s prostate. He went to town rubbing and tapping until precome was dribbling out of the head of Jack’s swollen dick.

“You gonna scream for me, baby?” Two fingers became three, pushing, prodding, _rubbing_.

“Brock.” Jack gasped his name. Green eyes opened, filled with hunger. “Get the fuck inside me.”

The words delivered a gut-punch of lust. Brock pulled his fingers out, making Jack hiss. He rubbed the remaining petroleum on his dick. That sensation alone was familiar, but startlingly new. He hadn’t been able to get it up since being burned, the nerves never healed right.

He took a breath to steady himself. Jack watched him with hazy eyes, pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips. He looked ready to devour Brock whole. His blood ran hot seeing how much Jack wanted him.

It was strange to think how he hadn’t missed this as Crossbones. He was another kind of being with no love, no Jack. No one looked at him with desire, just a monster made up of madness and mangled flesh. But he was here again, healed and nearly whole. There was just one piece missing, and that piece was Jack.

Brock forced the sentiment down as he lined himself up between Jack’s thighs. The wet heat was his true homecoming. Matching groans of pleasure filled the room. It took a small eternity to work all the way inside, but it was a new level of heaven.

Tears sprung to Brock’s eyes as he felt Jack wrapped around him in every way possible. Every nerve ending was alive with pleasure. Brock began to rock his hips, gentle and shallow just to feel how connected they were.

Jack’s fingers traced every muscle along Brock’s back, holding him so close it was difficult to breathe. The air hung humid between them, gasping breaths, and open mouth kisses. Brock angled his hips to keep the pressure over Jack’s prostate as he fucked him.

He knew he wouldn’t last long, but he needed to feel Jack come beneath him. Short strokes became hard thrusts. Sweat pooled at the base of Brock’s spine as he rode Jack hard. He snaked a hand between them. Brock fought off his orgasm when he felt Jack’s thick cock throb in his hand.

“I love you.” Brock gasped as he tightened his grip on Jack’s cock, twisting his wrist just how he knew to get Jack to explode.

Jack screamed out as he came. His whole body shook, clamping down on Brock until he saw stars. Heat and electricity shot from the base of Brock’s spine. Pleasure wracked his body until he was a trembling mess collapsing into Jack.

Little sparks of lightning sizzled across his skin with every shaking breath. Cloying lethargy pulled at Brock’s very being. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. Everything was perfect in this singular moment.

But life wasn’t perfect. Jack was here in his arms, but they were still trapped. Their hour was nearly up, and life was likely to start going to shit all over again, very soon.

Jack’s hand slowly moved along his shoulder, down his arm. The tattoos that he wore for decades were gone. Growing all of his skin back left him as a clean slate. When those gentle fingertips got to his wrist Brock felt a pang of sadness.

Before he could say a word, Jack brought Brock’s wrist to his lips and kissed that little patch of skin. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Jack whispered.

Brock didn’t have words for shit like this. He kissed Jack with every ounce of love he had, letting his desperation and need show through lips and teeth and tongue. He pulled out but pressed his body close, wanting to feel the mess between them, wanting to be marked.

“How many guards you think they’re gonna send to collect us?” Brock pulled back with one last nip.

“Less than four would be an insult.” Jack followed him to stand on shaky legs. They used the paper towels and sink to clean sweat and semen from their skin.

“Think my ass looked good on camera?” Brock snarked as he pulled on the loosely fitting grey sweatshirt he’d been given. “We could break into the server room on the way out, you know, just to check.”

“Put your pants on, _commander_.” Jack pulled the set of scalpels from his pocket, keeping them hidden in his palm.

“Don’t say shit like that. We ain’t got time for round two right now.” Brock laughed as he moved to the far right of the door. Jack took his place slightly farther back on the left. The sound of bootheels on the tile of the hallway was now loud enough to drown out their banter.

Enemy at the door, Jack at his side, Brock felt alive again.


End file.
